Pressure
by ALEO
Summary: Finding himself dragged into a mad bomber's plan Don wonders if he will survive the day. Seven chapters, COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Numb3rs: Pressure**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

_**A/N:**__ Written for Clue Challenge #9, March 2010, at hurt_don on LiveJournal. Prompts: __**Who?**__ – Don. __**What? **__– Explosion. __**Where?**__ – Crime scene._

_**Spoilers**__: Nil. _

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**CHAPTER ONE**

About to close his car door he stopped, distracted by the ring of a cell phone. The keys in the ignition hung forgotten as he listened to the unfamiliar ring again. It sounded close, like it was in the SUV with him. By the next ring he had it, a cheap, no frills phone lying under the jacket he'd discarded earlier on the passenger seat. Wondering how the cell came to be there he looked at it with a degree of perplexity for a moment before deciding to answer it.

"Hello?"

"_Who am I speaking to?" _ The male voice asked politely.

The question wasn't quite what he expected. He'd already decided that the cell had been left in his Suburban for a reason and given the calmness of the caller and the lack of 'sorry, wrong number' he figured that the caller had to have known exactly who he was calling. "FBI Special Agent Eppes. Who's this?"

"_You are the Agent in Charge, right?"_

There was no doubt as to what he might be in charge of. Don frowned, a niggle of suspicion making its way into his thoughts. His next words were a touch more cautious, "Yes, I am. Who is this?"

"_I think you can figure it out, I prepared today's explosion to draw you here."_

The bomber. He was talking to the bomber, the man whose handiwork he was looking at through his windscreen. From his spot he could see at least three bodies covered in clean white sheets and blankets, the wounded, numbering more than twenty, had already been removed. He flashed on the sequence of events that had led up to him being at this scene today. The bombings had started relatively small scale a week ago, causing some damage and a fair degree of consternation but that was about it. Within a couple of days it was clear that there was more going on as each day had brought an explosion precisely at 10am. Each was bigger than the last, casualties started on the third day, as did the FBI investigation. He'd been at the scene of the earlier explosions but had missed the last two days being stuck in the incident room managing the investigation and the response to the bombings as they'd happened. David had attended the last two scenes, and whilst his briefings were highly detailed and accurate Don felt that something was missing. He needed to see and feel the crime scenes for himself. Today's blast was the largest yet, five dead, three others on the critical list with at least one likely not to survive and the rest injured to various degrees.

Frustratingly, even after all this time they were still working from a reactive standpoint, unable to do more than send resources to the scenes as they developed. All their efforts so far had not allowed them to predict the next target or identify the person or persons responsible. It seemed those responsible had instead identified him.

Don's niggle of suspicion was now a full grown flashing neon light. The fact that the cell phone had been left in his vehicle meant that something else could have been as well. The bomber clearly had access into what was supposed to be a secure crime scene and his less than secure Suburban. He had to get out of the SUV and now. His body shifted but the urgent voice from the cell froze him in place.

"_Stop! There is a pressure sensitive device under your seat." _ The man said quickly. He paused as if to note the agent's reactions, when he continued his voice was much calmer and deadly serious_. "Good. I also have a remote. If you even think of moving, Agent Eppes, I will detonate. I want you alive but your death will still serve my purposes. Do you believe me?"_

Don remained frozen, his heart hammering in his chest as adrenalin surged through his body. His hands shook and suddenly felt clammy. Years of dealing with offenders had honed his ability to know when he was hearing the truth. The sound of his name being repeated snapped him out of it. "I believe you."

"_Good. I'm coming to you now."_ The man's tone was now almost conversational. _"As you can appreciate I really didn't have much time to install the device so it is, shall we say, a touch crude?"_

That was so not good. Pressure sensitive devices were not the most stable in the first place, let alone a hastily installed one. "Not moving."

"_I'm pleased you understand me."_ The man said. _"Now, put the cell on speaker and then put your hands on the top of the steering wheel, I don't want you inviting anyone else to this party."_

The man's words and actions made it more than clear he was under surveillance so he complied with the instructions before looking around in an effort to spot him. Both he and his team had been wondering who the bomber was and his motivations and it now appeared he was going to find out. There were many other ways he'd rather this went down, but the choice quite clearly was not going to be his.

Another thought made its way through his mind, the bomber had previously not communicated with them, unless you called the bombs themselves 'communication'. They'd had virtually nothing to work on even if Charlie was insisting there was a pattern beyond the escalation that they could all see, just one he couldn't read clearly at the moment. Don had to admit, to himself, that the possibility it was more the fact that his brother couldn't accept that there may not be a logical pattern had crossed his mind.

To suddenly go from no communication to calling the lead investigator directly and now intending a face to face meet whilst threatening him with his own personal bomb was a huge step. This could only end badly and he was going to be right in the middle when it happened. He really wanted to reach for his phone and make a call, not to his team but to his family as he had the sudden dread feeling it was something he might need to do before the day was out and may not get another opportunity. The bombers instruction had been clear however so he remained still, waiting with his hands in plain sight for whatever was going to happen next.

The scene around the area of the explosion was still chaotic, emergency services personnel were moving quickly around doing their thing. In amongst them were agents and detectives from the LAPD, along with forensics and bomb experts from both agencies. Don had been with them until a few minutes before when he took his leave to return to the MIR. As he searched for someone that could be the bomber he noted a burly paramedic picking his way over the rubble away from the epicentre. He watched the man for a moment but an ambulance was parked a short distance from his SUV and it appeared the man was headed there. An equipment bag was slung over one shoulder, no longer needed as there was no one left that needed medical attention. He looked away, searching the crowds of bystanders back near the barricades as best he could see them mainly through his mirrors, perhaps the bomber was coming from outside the scene, although he doubted it. The bomber had already been to his SUV and left at least the cell if nothing else.

"How are your nerves, Agent?" A newly familiar voice suddenly said beside him.

He managed, somehow, not to jump even if his hand did go to the grip of his weapon. Turning his head he saw the burly paramedic he'd noted before standing next to his still open door smiling at him. As Don realised who he was looking at the man raised his left hand to show a small box with a switch on it, a switch the man was currently pressing down on. A dead-man's switch. Moving slowly Don pulled his hand away from his gun and put it back onto the steering wheel earning a wider smile.

"I see I've picked the right man for the job." He continued at the agent's outwardly calm reaction.

"What do you want?"

"For now I want you to listen. Oh, you can turn off the phone but keep your hands on the steering wheel."

After the briefest hesitation Don moved, pressing the end button on the phone and tossing it onto his dash before returning his hand to its place on the wheel.

"Now, Agent in Charge, would I be right in assuming you've thought of the possibility that I'm bluffing? That this switch is a dummy and there is no device under your seat?"

Eyes narrowed Don didn't answer. He'd been thinking just that but with the bomber's history of proficiency to date and the truth he'd heard in the man's speech he'd decided not to call it just yet.

"I'll take that as a yes." The man said as he took in the look. "I'm going to ask that you take me on face value for just a little longer. Trust me, you'll be glad you did."

"What are you doing?" Don demanded sharply as the man started to reach under his seat.

"Stay perfectly still, I warned you the pressure switch is a bit touchy. I'm afraid it won't be up to the drive we're about to take. I'm going to disarm it." The man's voice took on a more cheerful note. "Don't worry, I'll still be able to detonate it by this remote."

That was exactly what Don was worrying about. The man fiddled for a moment, Don tearing his gaze away to see if anyone else at the scene was aware of this little drama off to the side. It had been a forlorn hope, everyone was too busy with their duties to be wondering why he was still sitting in his truck talking to an EMT that should be packing up to leave.

"So, what do you think?"

Snapping his attention back he froze again. As he'd been dreading the man had not been bluffing. In his hands the bomber was holding his device. It was a far cry from the bombs the public saw in the movies, this one matched the very tidy device the combined efforts of LAPD and FBI technicians had reconstructed from the previous explosions. No masses of wires or clumsy timer here, this was very much a device you could almost expect to walk into a high-end computer store and find on a shelf. A clear Perspex shell surrounded a couple of closely stacked circuit boards. The battery was mounted neatly into a purpose built holder and if there was a timer it didn't have a display with clichéd flashing red numerals. Unlike the previous devices a rod protruded from the top and Don knew that it was a part of the pressure sensor he would have activated when he sat in his seat. The majority of the box was filled with the explosive that was less technical, basic C4. Based on his general knowledge of explosives he determined that it was far, far more than was needed to blow one SUV and agent out of existence. He got his brain into gear as the man was waiting for his response.

"I'm back to, what do you want?"

The man's face spread into a fresh grin. "Good. I'll just put this back and then we'll go for our drive."

Grinding his teeth together in frustration Don waited as the device was slid back under him. The man then closed the driver's door before walking around the front of the SUV and opening the passenger door, all the while keeping his hand with the remote in the agent's view. As he climbed up he tossed his equipment bag into the back between the seats. A moment later he was settling himself comfortably in the passenger seat, door closed and looking over at the agent.

Interpreting the expectant expression Don reached for the ignition to turn the key he'd already inserted when the bomber interrupted.

"Not yet. Give me your gun first."

Despite sitting on several pounds of explosives giving up his gun was not something he wanted to do even if given the dead-man's switch meant the weapon was pretty much useless. It was almost a superstition, surrendering his gun seemed too much like tempting the Fates and given that it seemed he may not survive the day due to the explosives that was the last thing he wanted to do. He'd won against the odds before but as Charlie had often reminded him, the numbers were going to catch up to him eventually. The numbers he saw at the moment were related to the very low survival rates of LEOs who found themselves in situations similar to his.

"I'm not going to ask again." The man stated. His voice that had previously been conversational in tone, if not friendly, now sharpened at the agent's hesitation.

Telling himself that the bomber was just as dead if he released his switch really didn't help Don all that much. It wouldn't be the first time that a bomber martyred himself for his cause. Moving slowly, he lowered his right hand to his weapon and pulled it free from the holster. The normally comforting grip just felt cold as he twisted his wrist and offered it butt first to the bomber. It was taken and Don watched as the man slid it under his right leg, safely out of his reach but where the bomber could grab it in a heartbeat.

"That's better. Now you can kick it over and start driving." The man instructed. He appeared to think of something. "Oh, and we're keeping this just between us for the moment."

Once the engine was running Don manoeuvred the large vehicle out from where he'd been parked and drove up to the manned barricade. With the man's last few words in mind he simply waved at the LAPD officer and made no attempt to signal he was under duress. After a curious glance at the EMT riding with a federal agent the officer waved back with a friendly smile and pulled the barricade aside allowing him to drive through. Even without the bomber's warning he wouldn't have tried anything here, not with the crowds of people at risk. At the end of the block where he had a choice of turning or continuing straight on he hesitated. "Which way?"

"Right."

He turned then asked the next question. "Where are we going?"

"I'll tell you when to turn." The bomber responded.

Not the answer he was looking for. Eyeing the man for a moment he tried a different question. "Who are you?"

"Mason will do." The man said answering the literal question even as he had to know the agent was actually asking far more than just that.

"Alright, Mason, now that we're properly introduced mind telling me what this is all about?" He rather thought he deserved to know.

"You haven't figured it out yet? Not even the most obvious part of it?"

Wondering if that meant the man was some kind of a megalomaniac he spared another glance at his passenger. Instead of a gloating expression he found the man looking back at him with some degree of surprise.

"No."

"Really? I thought the FBI were better than that."

"Sorry to disappoint." Don offered. "Perhaps if you were to explain it to me I might understand."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child." Mason snapped.

Considering his position Don quickly apologised and changed tack. "Sorry. What do you want me to do?"

"For now, just drive."

"I can do that." They went a few more blocks allowing things to settle before he again tried to draw the man out. Mason's behaviour was confusing him. Already thinking he knew the answer to his question he asked it anyway in order to restart the conversation. "So, was it me you were targeting or just the lead FBI investigator?"

"What do you think?"

"You wanted the Agent in Charge, not me personally."

"Good. Do you know why?"

That really led back to the reason behind the bomber's actions which the man didn't seem to want to elaborate just now. Thinking it over he gave his best answer. "You wanted someone you felt was important to the authorities. Someone they might want back." Inwardly he cringed a bit as it sounded like he was big noting himself. He was an agent of rank but he didn't feel that he was all that important and certainly wasn't worth the loss of at least five innocent lives to put him in Mason's hands. There could also be something else. "You want my contacts."

"I wanted someone they will listen to." Mason corrected. "And someone with enough experience to know when I mean something and not try something stupid."

That seemed to fit. Their profile had already shown that the bomber was organised, thorough and working to a plan even if they'd not yet worked out what that was. The last thing he would need was some first year rookie cop as a hostage that might either crumble under the pressure or worse, try to be a hero.

"So, we're here and you're in control. How does this play out?"

"Ultimately that is out of my hands. You do your bit, I'll do mine but how this ends depends on whether I get what I want or not."

"Which is?" Don tried again.

"Something I thought your people would be able to figure out for themselves."

Grinding his teeth together at the insult and the lack of an actual answer he concentrated on driving for a moment, taking the next turn as directed. If the man wouldn't answer the big questions maybe he would answer the smaller ones. "So why this? Where are we going?"

"It's not so much where we're going as where we're not."

"Alright, so where are we not going?" He worked hard at keeping the frustration out of his voice. Taking his eyes off the traffic around them he found his passenger eyeing him and he realised he'd not been as successful as he'd hoped.

"Keeping it calm, keeping it together. I really did pick the right person." Mason said as he gave the agent a satisfied once over. "Alright, where we are is not one place. We keep this moving I'm not going to have some sharp shooter setting his sights on my head."

That made sense. A rolling hostage situation was damned difficult to manage as he'd had firsthand experience. Given the situation though he was not all that sure he'd prefer having a sniper aiming at the bomber, the dead-man's switch was aptly named.

"So you hijack me and we drive around but don't tell anyone. What's the point?" He decided to try for the big question again. "You want something, otherwise we wouldn't be here."

"I have what I want for now. The rest will come in due course."

Wondering what could be the decider for the time frame Don glanced at his fuel gauge. Almost full which meant they had many more hours of casual driving left to them.

"Ah, very good." Mason commented.

It seemed he'd guessed right. One mystery solved but that just left another already waiting. "We go until we stop?"

"If it comes to it then, yes. Hopefully we'll be done long before then."

After so much running around in circles that was a snippet of real information that he seized upon. "Done, how?"

That earned him a long look, no sign now of any amusement. "You know, that is starting to get annoying."

"I think that given you've dragged me front and centre into your plans I have a right to know." Don argued back. He'd tried polite and cooperative but it hadn't got him very far. It was time to push.

"What you have a right to know and what I feel like telling you are two very different things." The man snapped back.

The change in mood wasn't hard to detect but he continued. "Why not tell me? I figure you've already decided on killing me, perhaps even yourself as well, so you may as well just let me know."

There was a flash of anger across Mason's face. "You really need another hint?"

No, he didn't. He'd pushed it far enough after the first warning. Reasoning that he might just bring the man's planned agenda forward he shut his mouth and played out the role of chauffeur.

.


	2. Chapter 2

**Numb3rs: Pressure**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

_

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**CHAPTER TWO**

The silence stretched as he continued driving, interrupted only by the instructions on what turns he was to make. While he was tense and edgy with the enforced quiet when there were questions he needed answered, Mason appeared to have calmed so that made it worthwhile. After another cautious sidelong glance at the man Don decided to give it a little longer before trying again. In the end the choice was taken out of his hands by the ringing of his cell phone just as they'd completed a second rough circuit of the crime scene.

"Who is it?" Mason asked immediately, almost as if he was waiting for the call which he may very well have been.

Taking that as permission Don pulled the cell off his belt and looked at the outer screen. The caller's number was restricted. Given that he should have checked in some time ago he was safe on the identity of the caller. "The office."

"Let it go."

From Mason's reaction to the ring that wasn't the order Don expected as he waited for it to ring out. Fifteen seconds never felt like so long. Finally it stopped and he set the Bluetooth, placed the phone into the cradle and continued to drive in silence, obeying directions to turn. The phone was going to ring again and at some point he wanted it answered, for his situation to become known and arguing with Mason now could put that at jeopardy. Why he'd been told to let it ring out he couldn't fathom.

It made no sense, the bomber had to want to get some sort of message across by the very nature of his actions. The bombs were placed for a reason, the escalation also had a reason just as taking a hostage had a purpose somewhere in the man's plans. Mason had to open a line of dialogue at some point either directly or, as seemed likely now, via a proxy such as an agent under duress. Otherwise the man could have just as easily driven himself around in an ambulance to match the uniform he was wearing or even better, travel in style by hiring a limo with an unsuspecting driver. Kicking back in a hotel room would have been even more comfortable and far less effort than keeping a finger pressed on a button but that leant itself to a static siege which Mason wanted to avoid. A few minutes later the phone rang and again he was told to ignore it which only served to increase his frustration. Mason would get nothing for all his efforts if he didn't ask for what he wanted. Don had to force himself to open his hands, stretching them as they started to cramp from gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

"Alright," Mason said as the phone started to ring for the third time, the gap between calls shortening. "Now you can answer it."

Despite it being what he wanted it just opened up a whole new line of complexity and he hesitated in the very action of reaching for the phone to answer it. "And say what?"

"Whatever you want."

Again, not what he expected. Mason was giving him free rein? "I can tell them about this? About you and the bomb?"

"Bombs."

The hand he had resting on the face of his cell about to accept the call suddenly dropped as he gave the man a long look. He didn't see anything that would make him think the man was lying. "Bombs? Plural?"

Jerking his empty hand back Mason said, "Backseat."

Quickly glancing at the traffic to be sure he had a clear moment Don twisted and looked back between the seats for the bag the man had been carrying earlier and found it on the seat. Something else caught his eye and he glanced downwards to see a second bag of the type frequently carried by paramedics resting on the passenger side floor. So there had been more than just the bomb under his seat and the cell phone left in his car earlier. Both bags were an ideal way to smuggle a bomb around a crime scene. He wondered which bag the man was referring to, or even worse, if he was referring to both. Inwardly he winced at the memory of the way the bag the man had been carrying had been tossed behind them earlier, if it didn't contain a bomb it could have landed on the bag that did.

"I was going to put it in the back but you at least remembered to lock that." Mason chided as the agent turned back to look at him. His comment cleared up one point, the second bomb was in the bag on the floor.

Don felt a flush of anger at the rebuke, he'd not locked his SUV because it was inside the guarded perimeter of a crime scene. The caged off rear section however was always locked unless he was getting something out of it. There was too much valuable and dangerous equipment to risk it, even in a guarded crime scene. Firearms, such as his rifle and back up Glock, always had to be kept under lock and key when not in use. With a mental shake he got himself back on track and reached for the phone before it finished ringing out.

"Eppes." The situation he was in made his voice harder than normal.

"_Yeah, hey Don. I've been trying to reach you."_ David's clipped voice came through the speakers. Clearly he was busy as would be expected given what had happened today and that his boss had seemingly gone MIA. _"You on your way back in yet? The ADIC's chasing a report."_

Don glanced over at his passenger to see if he was still free to speak before answering. The man simply stared back so the agent got on with it. "David, I'm with the bomber."

There was a shocked pause. Whatever David may have been thinking Don was going to say, it certainly wasn't that. _"Say again?"_

"His name is Mason and he has placed a bomb in my car." The best way to deliver bad news was bluntly and he stuck with that. "He's here with me now."

David's voice was careful. _"He's holding you?"_

"Yes." Understanding David's position he spelt it out. "He has my weapon and a bomb under my seat rigged to a dead-man's switch in his hand. He states he has a second bomb in a bag in here with us as well."

There was a longer pause this time and a click as David transferred the call to a recorded line. David's voice was fainter due to the extra equipment between them, but no less tense. _"He's listening in?"_

"You're on speaker." Don confirmed. He sat back, his part was pretty much done, the rest of the conversation should be between the negotiator and the bomber.

"_My name is David Sinclair,"_ The now Acting Agent in Charge introduced himself. _"What do we need to do to resolve this situation?"_

"The situation will resolve itself, Agent Sinclair." Mason answered calmly.

"_What do we need to do to ensure Agent Eppes' safety?"_

"Don't stop us or interfere with us in any way and I see no reason to risk Agent Eppes' life any further than it is now."

Don didn't find that particularly reassuring.

"_Where are you going?"_

"Nowhere you need to know about."

Mason was giving David the same sort of infuriating answers he'd given his hostage. But his words did give Don the indication that perhaps there was an end destination in mind rather than the mostly aimless driving they'd been doing up to now. Perhaps his fuel status wasn't the main factor deciding when things would come to a head, contrary to Mason's earlier words. Given the lack of real answers so far a misleading one wasn't so unlikely.

"_What do you want?"_

That was the million dollar question and Don almost held his breath as he waited to hear what this was all about. He was to be disappointed, but then, given the way things had gone until now he wasn't surprised.

"Exactly what I have."

"_Which is?"_

Mason still didn't seem inclined to provide any real answers to David's questions, waving his hand in a gesture Don took to mean he was to take this one.

"I've got no idea what he wants, David. He won't tell me either. He seems happy with whatever this is for the moment. We're just driving around downtown." He couldn't keep the frustration out of his tone.

David clearly heard the emotion and sounded almost apologetic as he pushed._ "Anywhere in particular downtown?"_

He'd not discerned any real pattern, their second circuit had taken a different route to the first so he couldn't even point his agent towards any particular target like a building they'd passed more than once. Their focal point had already been bombed and was crawling with police and agents so that was out. Another glance at Mason reassured him he was still free to speak, seemingly not caring what he might say. But then again, as he didn't actually know anything there was little he could say that could likely cause any damage to the man's plans.

"Not that I can tell, we just seem to be spiralling outwards from the crime scene."

"_What do we need to do to have you released?"_

"He's not going anywhere, Agent Sinclair." Mason answered firmly at that. He stared at his driver for a few seconds before adding, "I think you have what you need for now."

At the cutting motion Don reached out to the phone. "Sorry, David. I have to go." He pressed the button to disconnect the call before David could protest. "So what did that achieve? You didn't make any demands."

"I don't need to make demands, not yet."

Don seized on the newest scrap of information. "Not yet? So there will be a demand?"

"Of course, you don't think I'm doing all this for nothing do you?"

He'd considered it a possibility. Who knew what the man was after given his lack of explanation thus far? It wouldn't be the first time that it was just the attention, the only motivation they'd come up with during their investigation to date. He wasn't going to say that though, telling someone that what they thought was important wasn't considered important by others was a sure fire way of antagonising them. Antagonising the man with the remote was something he'd avoid where he could, particularly where it would be little better than a cheap shot.

"Hardly, but why won't you at least tell me what it is? It's not like I can tell anyone unless you let me."

"What would telling you achieve for me?"

"Nothing." Don had to admit, aside from a little peace of mind for himself. _Or maybe not, depending on what it was_, he argued back to himself. Out loud he added, "Unless it is something you want me to act on, or get others to act on for you."

"Like you'd know these people." Mason scoffed.

"Who?" The agent demanded. This was far more than he'd had before, finally something to work with. "Who are we talking about? Are you working for others?"

"You think I'm a terrorist or something?" The other man responded heatedly.

"The thought crossed my mind. You've blown things up and now you've targeted a government agent." Don explained, at this point the definition of 'terrorist' would seem to fit.

"Well, I'm not. I'm working for me." Mason argued indignantly.

"So what then, money?"

Now the man laughed, a short bark as he found some amusement in the question. "We all want money, even you. But I'm not after that, at least not in the way you mean. Right, here."

Don was back to grinding his teeth as he took the new turn. Mason was determined not to give him a straight answer to anything aside from his reaction to being accused of being a terrorist. At least that was a solid response, whoever he may have been working for it wasn't a terrorist group, that much Don was now reasonably sure of. Or at least not a group that Mason categorised as terrorist, Don amended, which was less reassuring. Not that the distinction either way really helped him much, in fact it probably made things a little harder. A terrorist with fairly standard demands they had standard responses to.

"So not money. Do you want someone out of jail? Out of office?" Another thought struck him, "Or into office?"

"Politics? Really? I already told you this was for me. Your FBI experts couldn't work that out." Mason taunted, before a hint of anger coloured his words. "Let me make it clear for you, I'm working for me."

"Yeah, I heard that. But how does this work for you?" Don lifted his hand in a gesture taking in everything that had happened and was yet to happen. "Driving around town in circles and not making any demands when the opportunity presents?"

"The correct opportunity, as you put it, hasn't presented." Mason stuck to his less than enlightening replies. "We have to wait a while for that."

Don's cell phone interrupted whatever he might have found to say in response to that. Receiving a nod he pressed the green button. "Eppes."

"_This is David Sinclair."_ The other agent announced. _"I'm calling to give a head's up. I don't want you to be alarmed, Mason, but LAPD will be taking up position with you shortly."_

The information was what Don had been expecting. Ever since David's first call he'd been watching his mirrors for signs. This call confirmed that Mason had not disabled the GPS on his SUV, something he'd doubted the man would have had the time to do anyway. If Mason forced the tail to back off they could still be tracked by the GPS in his cell which would have perhaps taken a little longer and be maybe a touch less accurate. In the meanwhile having live eyes on the target only helped David work on a solution.

Mason barely glanced around, seemingly unconcerned even as he gave his warning. "They better not try to stop us."

"_They're under strict instructions to follow, not interfere."_

Don knew that wasn't quite true but the actions of the vehicles was going to look exactly like that was their orders. As long as they kept driving around there wasn't a whole lot they could do anyway, at least not until some more resources were in place. He was fairly certain however that they would have orders to interfere if they were to try to do something a bit more aggressive, say like drive into a mall or a schoolyard. At that point he'd probably find a black & white driven across his path.

"They can follow."

"_If you would like I can have them clear traffic for you."_ David offered. That was a more subtle way of asking for a destination. The police would have to know where they were going if they were to clear the way for them.

"They can follow." Mason repeated his earlier words a little more firmly as he clearly understood the real slant to the question. "I'm sure Agent Eppes can clear traffic if that becomes an issue."

That just showed another reason why taking an agent hostage was to Mason's advantage. He had control of an emergency vehicle fitted out with all the equipment necessary to demand right-of-way through any traffic snarls. He may not be sharing his plans but it was clear, as per their profile, he'd given things some thought.

"_Just trying to help." _David responded smoothly. _"Is there anything you want or need that I can get for you?"_

Don nodded slightly to himself at the question. It was pretty much what he would have done in the other agent's position. With the lack of pro-active demands David was trying to prompt the bomber into making some, much as what he'd been trying to do earlier. They needed something to work with, something to start the to-and-fro of the negotiating process. Almost on cue he heard sirens approaching and within seconds a pair of LAPD cruisers slid into place behind them. They maintained a respectful position far enough back so as not to be an overt threat but they were close enough that their presence provided the start of the pressure David would bring to bear as time went on.

Mason turned in his seat to watch the two units for a few seconds as they settled into place. As he turned back Don didn't miss the satisfied expression on his face. "No, Agent Sinclair. I've got all that I want or need for now. So unless you have something else you need to tell me? No?"

At the cutting motion Don ended the call. Mason hadn't really given David any time to say anything else even if he had something, but that really didn't matter. It would give David the excuse to call back if he did have something as Don knew there was. Their scramble time was impressive but it was still going to be a little longer before the FBI SWAT team would be in a position to join them. David's next call would be to report their arrival, unless something else came up first.

"You want them there." Don said as Mason once again turned and assessed the following LAPD units, a third car sliding into place. He seemed perfectly calm as the number of following police increased. That was a little out of the ordinary, most offenders demanded that the police back off. "You want the cops on our tail."

"Of course. It all adds to the scene."

"The what?" The bomber just kept coming up with things that weren't standard for the scenario he'd created. "What scene?"

Mason sat back, shaking his head. He waved at the next corner with the hand holding the remote. "Turn right."

Don took the turn and then the next a block later. They were virtually heading back the way they had just come, reversing their circuit. The sudden change prompted him to once again ask, "Where are we going?"

"Turn when I tell you."

"We're going back somewhere?"

"Just keeping it interesting, don't want anyone getting bored with the action." Mason said evasively, almost offhandedly, even as Don got the feeling he was once again getting annoyed at being questioned.

The other man's feelings were the least of his worries. He replayed the answer in his mind feeling he was missing something but it didn't come to him. Instead he was reminded of the comment moments ago, the two were related, he was sure of it even if he couldn't figure out exactly how. Again he found himself pressing the man for answers. "What scene are you setting up?"

"You really don't like taking no for an answer do you?"

"You wanted a driver that didn't ask questions you should have hired a limo." Don pointed out. "Instead you picked an FBI agent." He managed to keep the 'so deal with it' off the end. The bomber seemed to hear it anyway.

"Don't make me regret my choice, Agent." Mason warned.

"I already do." Don muttered as he turned away. They'd reached the point where he had to let it go again.

Demonstrating sharp ears the bomber let out a snort before toying with his hostage. "Not as much as you could."

_That was only a matter of time_, Don thought to himself as he outwardly ignored the comment. This new stage of the game had barely started as best he could tell and whilst his role wasn't totally clear, that much he could bank on.

.


	3. Chapter 3

**Numb3rs: Pressure**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

_

* * *

_

**CHAPTER THREE**

For the first time Mason looked at his watch. After a quick glance at his fuel gauge to find as he expected that he had plenty left Don stole a look at the bomber wondering what had prompted a time check. Mason had seemed happy to let things develop on their own, the SUV's fuel status until now allegedly being the only time limiting factor. His answer came as the man reached out and turned on the car radio. After fiddling with the tuner for a bit he selected a channel to his satisfaction.

Don grimaced as he saw the frequency on the display. It was a popular radio news channel, one that neither he nor anyone he knew listened to even if they all knew the station. It claimed to be based on news but mostly just ran breathless live commentaries to the regular high speed pursuits that seemed to fascinate the public and so-called journalists so much. They even offered a paging service to alert their faithful listeners of a pursuit in progress. If there wasn't a pursuit Kal-News filled their newscasts with highlights of the most recent chase before running tales of robberies, assaults and murders along with tales of police failure. Their reporters seemed to take delight in interviewing victims and grieving families and asking the most ridiculous questions. Anything for ratings, nothing for common decency. Unfortunately they rated very well so nothing stopped them from seeking bigger and more sensational ways to file their reports. Don avoided them like the plague, his interests ran more to the sports channels or the more authoritative news reports.

Glancing down at his watch Don saw that it was only a minute or two before the hour. Mason was waiting for the newsbreak that would run after whatever inane advertisement they were listening to had finished blaring at them. Almost surprisingly there was some actual news when it finally started. The first item was a report on the most recent bombing even if they gave it their own twist. He could hardly have expected them not to cover such an incident, even if they rarely covered what he considered real news. The reporter sounded far more excited than shocked as she described the scene and gave a tally of the body count. Don pursed his lips at the count of six killed, a woman on the critical list had obviously died after he'd received his last update. The reporter seemed almost hopeful that a critically injured man was going to join those six causing his lip to curl in disgust. He shot a look at the cause of those deaths and found Mason listening intently, an expression more of clinical detachment on his face rather than satisfaction at his handiwork. As he pointed Don through another turn it looked almost as if he was more interested in how he was being reported rather than what was being reported. There were brief flashes of satisfaction each time the 'mad bomber' description was used but that was about it. Don sat through the interminable interviews with bystanders and allegedly highly qualified 'experts' before they finally moved onto other news with a promise to return if anything broke. Sure enough, their next item was a replay of the pursuit from earlier in the day and their desperate efforts to link the two incidents together. Although how they'd figured to do that Don didn't have a clue.

The other man finally turned it down. "Huh."

At the less than satisfied sound Don couldn't keep quiet. Anger flared. "What? Not enough dead for you?"

Mason waved that off. "They call themselves News-eyes. They're a bit slow."

"How's that?"

The question was ignored in favour of the bomber grabbing Don's cell phone from its holder and deactivating the Bluetooth. After dialling Mason put the phone to his ear and waited. Apparently it rang out as he pressed the redial and waited again.

"Hello? Hey, look, there's this black SUV driving around downtown with three cop cars behind it. Oh wait, make that four. I just saw them on Olympic. The cops aren't pulling it over. I thought I saw it where the bomb went off earlier. Is it the car from the chase today?" In keeping with the radio station's style he spoke in rapid, excited sentences.

Mason was playing right along with the station's theorising, linking two totally unrelated matters together. According to the station's own report the pursuit had involved a black compact, not a black SUV but he figured the distinction would matter little. Black was black, it would be enough for Kal-News to pounce. But Mason didn't leave it at that, his next comments designed to make the situation he was describing something the station couldn't ignore.

"I heard the cops say it might be The Mad Bomber." His tone made it clear the words were capitalised, the description turned into a name. He listened a moment before pitching his voice to sound even more excited. "Cool, I'm going to be on air? Thanks man."

Now the satisfied look was firmly back in place as the phone settings were once again adjusted and it was returned to the cradle. Don shook his head, in keeping with the station's low credibility they'd seemingly not asked their latest informant where he was getting his material from.

"Why did you do that?" He demanded.

"If I said I was sick of you asking me questions would you leave it at that or ask another one?"

There wasn't any threat in the man's tone this time but Don kept his mouth shut, shaking his head again at the lack of an answer. He was just absurdly grateful that he wasn't working in either the LAPD's or FBI's media centres. He was already aware of the demands that their media liaison staffs were working under, as the Agent in Charge he'd been getting requests for press conferences and interviews constantly. For the most part they'd been handled by an agent he'd appointed to that task, a waste of an agent that could otherwise have been actually working to catch the offender but the media didn't care. After Mason's alert to Kal-News the liaison staff, already drowning under the demands of the media over the bombings, were now about to be swamped even further. Once one station had it everyone was going to have the new twist to the story, particularly as the basic details were easily verifiable by a radio scanner or by other eyewitness accounts from unofficial 'News-eyes'.

His line of thought was interrupted as his cell phone rang. Answering it he heard David making the expected announcement that there were going to be two more vehicles joining their procession as the FBI's SWAT team moved into place.

"_They also have instructions to follow only and not interfere."_ David was explaining. _"They will only act if the public are put at risk."_

"Agent Sinclair, I can detonate any time I like." Mason pointed out calmly, the excited voice he'd used when calling the radio station was completely gone. It wasn't escaping anyone's attention that the public were well and truly already at risk. With the rolling crime scene on public roads it was next to impossible to keep innocent people away. "If they try anything, I will."

Again there was no stock standard demand that the following cars back off and give them space. Don finally had one aspect of the man's unspoken demands confirmed, he wanted attention. A black SUV being tailed by four LAPD cruisers and two other black SUVs, all with flashing red and blue lights and wailing sirens, was going to draw attention, even without Mason's tip off.

"_They won't. They're there to make sure you don't have any problems getting what you want."_ David tried again to get more information.

"And I thank you for that. They are helping nicely."

"_What?"_

Again Don was forced to cut his agent off. While he may have had a partial answer to Masons' motivation, David didn't. Not yet.

"What?" Mason demanded somewhat smugly after the silence stretched. "No questions?"

"Sure. I got questions." Don fired back as he risked shooting a man a look that clearly said what he thought of him. "You just won't answer any of them."

Mason grinned right back as he goaded his hostage. Now things were going his way he seemed to feel relaxed enough to have a little fun. "I did pick right. You're angry and you've certainly pissed me off but I don't think I need to blow you up just yet."

"You're too kind."

The grin widened at the growled response. "Keep doing what you're told and if everything else pans out you'll get to go home tonight."

The last comment had Don calming himself down even if Mason hadn't intended it that way. He needed to keep a cool head and not allow his frustration to get the better of him. An opportunity might present itself to end this and he had to be ready and able to act. After a couple of deep breaths he washed some of the anger away. It meant a question but it would give Mason the confirmation he seemed to want.

"What do you want me to do next?" There was going to be more than simply chauffeuring to come, he was sure of that.

"You'll find out." Mason seemed almost disappointed at the agent's backing down.

The next step came all too soon for Don's liking once he discovered what it was. They'd been continuing as before, driving around in a slowly expanding spiral. He noted a sudden movement to his left and turned to see a speeding grey van come flying towards them from the minor side street they'd just past. The van fishtailed through its turn but held and started to move up alongside, having managed to come out in front of the trailing black & whites. It had all the hallmarks of an attack even if he couldn't fathom a reason for one. Don started to swerve towards the next lane and pressed his foot to the floor to open up some distance between them to allow the LAPD room to manoeuvre.

Mason peered out the rear passenger window and then leant across the agent to see what had prompted the reaction. He put a hand on the agent's arm, "Stay where you are. Let them come."

"What?"

"News van." Mason added as if that explained everything.

Don slowed and moved back fully into the lane as he looked closer at the van that was working to catch up. Now it was obvious, the roof was covered with antennae and there was a large logo on the side of the van, all of which he'd missed in his reactive glance as it had made its hurried appearance. He identified the 'News-eye' logo on the side, it was from Kal-News. Nothing too surprising there, Mason had given out their location and the station had been able to track their movements by listening to LAPD radio broadcasts. The van matched their speed and the side door slid open. Don stared across and ignored the motions the man standing there was making for him to wind his window down.

"Open it." Mason ordered.

Don glanced over to see the bomber leaning across to look at the pacing vehicle. "And then what?"

"I should have thought that obvious."

"If you want to talk to them, you do it." He didn't like talking to the media at the best of times, let alone now.

"Do we have to do this every time I want you to do something, Agent. Really?" Mason complained. He raised the remote as his voice took on a flat edge. "Nothing's changed. Open the window and answer the man's questions."

Stabbing at the control the agent started to wind the window down only to see the news van suddenly drop away. One of the FBI SWAT vehicles had pulled ahead on Don's right and then across to position itself in front of the news van. The SUV had slowed and the news van was forced to brake heavily in order to avoid a collision. Concentrating on the van and Mason's orders he'd not seen the movement until it was all over.

"No!" Mason exclaimed. He snatched at the radio handset hanging on its hook on the dash and held it out to the agent. "Tell them to back off and let them come back."

Taking the handset he hit the button to power up the radio. By the time the set had finished its start-up though he no longer needed it, the SWAT SUV that had dropped away behind them had moved back up and was now in position beside them. He found himself staring into the sympathetic eyes of the SWAT agent riding shotgun. As he watched the man raised a digital camera and started snapping away, the SWAT vehicle moving forward a little to adjust the angle. They would finally get an image of the bomber. Following Mason's repeated order Don waved his hand sharply, motioning for the SUV to drop back. The camera was lowered but the SUV remained in place as the agent spoke urgently into the microphone clipped to his vest. Don's radio may have now been on but it was clear that the SWAT vehicles were operating on a different frequency just as he expected for their tactical communications. Seconds later Don's cell rang.

"Eppes."

"_Don?"_ David started_. "What's going on there?"_

"There was a news van beside us. Mason wants it back."

"_I can't allow them back in harm's way." _ David responded.

Mason leaned over. "They won't be in any danger. Unlike those agents."

"_You won't detonate over this."_ David stated at the clear threat.

"Oh? Why not? I can take out what, five, six agents instantly, plus the cops following and everyone else in fifty yard radius around us." Mason pointed out.

In the bomber's hasty response he'd given away some more information. Don knew David would have caught it but the other agent didn't let on.

"_If you wanted to do that you would have done it already."_

"Maybe I'm happy with what I can get. I'd prefer to have the news van back, they'll be safe," Mason repeated his reassurance. "But if not, then I'll just make do with killing everyone."

There was a pause as David decided what to do. Having already demonstrated his ability to set explosions without a care for any casualties the bomber was most likely not bluffing, putting David in a tough spot. Mason prodded at Don's shoulder, clearly impatient as the silence lengthened.

Don made his own assessment of the situation, being best placed for it even if the final decision was in the other agent's hands. Given the choices, allowing Mason to have his way on this was the better option, there could be too many civilian casualties otherwise on what was really a minor point. It was also an opportunity to perhaps get Mason to open up even if it was to a reporter. "David, he wants to go public."

"_He's doing this to get himself on air?"_ David asked, incredulous as he made his assumption. _"This is his demand?"_

"No, not all of it. But he called them, he wants them here." Don clarified when Mason showed no sign of interrupting. "As to what he really wants, I still have no clue."

Another pause then, _"They have safe passage?"_

"They'll be perfectly safe." Mason offered.

"_If I allow this, what do I get in return?" _

"A lot of people keep breathing."

"_You included." _ David said pointedly.

"Don't make the mistake in thinking I won't detonate just because I'll go up too." The annoyed tone was back. Mason's temper seemed to be shortening with the constant questioning, the failure of everyone to simply do as he ordered. His next words proved it. "I'm going to start counting. One, two…"

Not knowing what was to be the final number on the count David jumped in on the 'two'. _"Alright. I'll get SWAT to drop back. What the news van does is up to them, I'm not going to order them in."_

They all knew that wasn't going to be a problem. With an opportunity such as this the news van was going to move back in as soon as it saw its chance, if all else failed the bomber could call them back and extend the invitation. Mason reached out his hand and hung up on David now that he had what he wanted. Don saw the agent in the vehicle beside him cock his head as he listened to orders coming over his radio. The man looked over at the captive agent and made a slight tilt of his head in apology as the black SUV dropped back. As expected once the spot was clear the news van moved right back in.

"Agent." Mason prompted.

The window went the rest of the way down and Don looked across at the excited man leaning towards him, a directional microphone held back out of the wind their passage was generating.

"Is it true?" The man demanded. "Are you the bomber?"

Don wasn't going to let that stand, much as he hated the alternative. As he answered he jerked his right hand back towards his passenger. "No. He is. I'm just the hostage."

The journalist leant back and pushed at the shoulder of his driver and the van moved forward a little in a repeat of the SWAT vehicle's actions allowing him to better see into the front of the SUV. The van dropped back after a moment so he could once again shout across the space between the two vehicles.

"Can we talk to him?"

Don turned away to glance at Mason, knowing the answer but hoping that the man may have changed his mind.

Mason shook his head. "Not yet."

"He doesn't want to talk." Don called back the answer.

The reporter took it in stride, moving right along. "Who are you? Why has he taken you hostage?"

"FBI." Don answered for both questions.

"Can I have your name for our listeners?"

"Special Agent Eppes." Don ground out reluctantly at the latest prod to his shoulder.

"Agent Eppes, is the man armed? Does he have another bomb?"

_If he wasn't armed do you think I'd be a hostage?_ Don thought to himself and ignored that question. "He's got two bombs."

The reporter didn't even flinch, clearly personal safety mattered less than the story. "What's he going to blow up? When?"

"You'll need to ask him that."

"Why is he doing this? What does he want?"

"No idea."

"Is he going to kill you?"

Don gaped at him for a moment._ What the hell kind of a question was that to ask of a person under threat? _"Ask him."

"Are you afraid that he'll kill you?" The man rephrased his question before adding a second as he seemed to like. "How does it feel to be The Mad Bomber's hostage?"

_How do you think it feels?_ Don thought as he fought not to say it out loud. Why did they always have to ask that question, as if common sense couldn't provide an answer? "No comment."

"Is there anything you want to say to your family that might be listening?"

"No comment." He snapped back quickly. His family would most certainly not be listening and the last thing he would have wanted even if they were was a personal message going over the air. The reporter's offer was not to help him but to further sensationalise the interview.

"Why aren't the cops stopping you? Why are they letting you drive him around?" The reporter changed tack.

"I'm not going to discuss operational matters." The words were spoken on autopilot. How many times over the last week had either he or the media liaison agent given that response to media Don didn't know. They always wanted to know exactly what the FBI and LAPD were doing and why, not considering that the information would go out to where the bomber could hear it and adjust his plans accordingly.

"Are they going to meet his demands because you're an agent?"

_No. _As if. "We don't negotiate." He bit off the 'with terrorists' not wanting to make this any more sensational than it already was.

"Have you arrested him?"

_What the? Was the man completely stupid?_ "He's holding me hostage. No, I haven't arrested him."

"So you tried to arrest him and he's escaping now?" The man demanded as he jumped to a conclusion. "What did you do wrong?"

That was another reason why neither Don nor anyone he knew listened to Kal-News. The station was very much anti-police. They loved the pursuits but took every opportunity to attack the very people that were indirectly giving them their ratings.

He'd had enough, he wasn't going to facilitate an attack on the FBI by the reporter just because he was a captive interviewee. Pressing his foot back down onto the gas he wound his window back up, making his displeasure even more evident by swerving across in front of the van so it couldn't move back into position.

"Agent," Mason warned as they accelerated away.

"So release the damned button. The man's an idiot, removing him from the gene pool will do everyone a favour." Don snapped hotly. "You talk to him. I'm done."

_._


	4. Chapter 4

**Numb3rs: Pressure**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

_

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_

**CHAPTER FOUR**

"You keep pushing me, Agent." Mason said, clearly angry.

"And you keep pushing me." Don said right back, just as angry. "I did what you wanted. I spoke to the idiot, he's got heaps of grabs to run with. You want to give him more, you talk to him."

Mason glared at the agent a moment longer before looking behind them. Don used his mirror to see what the bomber was seeing. Correctly interpreting Don's move the SWAT SUVs had moved up to effectively box the news van in. The van was free to leave by slowing and dropping away but was blocked from moving back up. Mason turned back.

"I'll let it go. For now."

"So kind."

"Remember when I said you'd get to go home today if you did as I said?" Mason started in response to the sarcastic comment. "Keep that up and I'll change my mind."

The new threat didn't worry Don. He'd already come to the conclusion that his going home was very low down on Mason's list of priorities. If he was to survive this it wasn't going to be by relying on the man letting him go. When he got the chance to either take Mason down or simply escape, if he could be sure such a move wasn't going to threaten innocent lives, he was going to have to take it. For now he was stuck and whilst he had to obey the man's instructions he wasn't going to roll over and make it easy.

Mason took satisfaction from the agent's silence and settled himself more comfortably in his seat, speaking only to give directions as they continued through a fourth orbit of this morning's crime scene. As they came up to the next hour he switched the radio on again and Don was forced to sit through his interview and the spin that came after it as the station blamed the bombings on the police and FBI. They even had an 'expert' that put forward a theory on a conspiracy between them, the government and the bomber.

"Is this what you wanted?" Don demanded, upset at the way the FBI was being portrayed, how his words and actions under duress were being twisted to support the station's position. "You're doing this to attack us?"

"What do I care about the FBI?" Mason argued. "I'm doing this for me."

"Yeah, so you said. So far I don't see how any of this helps you."

"Oh, it helps me plenty."

"Really? Stuck in this car with me and under just as much threat from the bombs as I am? That helps you?"

"Don't worry, Agent." He looked ahead and nodded his head. "When a few more of them turn up we'll move onto the next phase."

Don followed Mason's gaze to see an outdoor broadcast van waiting at the side of the road ahead of them. It bore the livery of a television news station. It had only been a matter of time before TV became involved. As they passed he found himself looking into the lens of a camera and expected it would be going out live. This station was one that it was very possible his father could be watching and he hoped that David had found a moment to have called Alan and have explained the situation that his son had found himself in. Then they were past and he glanced back in his mirror to see the van pulling out to join the procession. The same glance showed him two other vans already trailing the SWAT and LAPD units behind him. Some of what Mason had said earlier now made more sense. He was setting up a scene that couldn't help but pique the interest of the media. They were going to lap this up, a moving crime scene that they could follow and film instead of being forced back behind police cordons.

"And that would be?" Don asked.

"That would be where I get what I want."

He should have expected the evasive answer.

Mason then continued, his voice barely audible as if he was thinking out loud. "They'll have to give it to me now. I've shown them."

Thinking on the deadly explosions over the last week Don as the man spoke he could only agree that 'they', whoever they may be, had certainly been shown. By not making any demands before now the bomber had made his position even stronger, demonstrating his determination to get what he wanted even if no-one yet knew what that was. Somewhat akin to shooting first before yelling 'don't move'. The authorities had so far been prevented from opening any sort of dialogue or having any influence over Mason's plans. Mason's unusual approach had given him the upper hand.

With there not being any point in questioning Mason as to what 'it' was or who 'they' were he concentrated on his driving as more media vehicles joined the parade. The road behind them was becoming quite crowded as the other vehicles showed a little more decorum than Kal-News had and remained behind the official escort. A shadow passed over them and he looked up to see a couple of helicopters pacing them at the lowest altitude allowed by the buildings around them, camera pods mounted underneath. Another helicopter was higher up and he surmised that machine was LAPD.

"Left, there." Mason ordered pointing at a ramp entrance.

He took the turn and headed up onto the 10 thinking that the bomber must finally be satisfied with their entourage. Until now Mason had been happy to stay on the more local roads, heading onto the major arterial suggested that things were changing.

"Slow down." Mason added as they merged and Don moved out into a middle lane.

"Why?"

"I don't want to do laps of the 10."

At that Don looked closely at Mason, searching for more clues as to his meaning other than what seemed obvious. The bomber seemed almost relaxed and Don took it as confirmation that they'd completed another step of his plan and were onto the next. It was clear to him now that they were actually headed somewhere, somewhere that the 10 would take them.

"What's down here that you want?" He demanded as he slowed, racking his brain as to what the man's target could be. There were just too many choices.

Before Mason could answer, not that the agent was sure he would, Don's cell rang. With the change of road and speed it was no surprise that David would be checking in.

"_Hey Don. How're you doing?"_ David started, his tone conversational.

Out of all the things he could have said Don reluctantly settled with, "Fine, David."

"_Good. And Mason?"_

The man showed no sign of answering the question himself, instead twisting back in his seat to assess the parade behind them, so Don repeated himself. "He's fine too."

"_Okay."_ David paused a moment before getting to the reason for his call. _"The 10? Headed anywhere in particular?"_

Again, nothing from Mason, he was still checking out the situation behind them. "West, I guess." Don's best answer didn't narrow anything down or help them figure things out. There was a whole lot of LA to the west before they hit ocean.

"_I see."_ David said, as he clearly didn't. Again he hesitated, taking a far more passive approach to his attempted negotiation this time. _"Mason? Anything we can do for you now?"_

"Sure." The man himself responded to the polite question. "How about getting the cops to back off for a bit?"

"_I think I can arrange that." _David offered_. "I'd like something from you though."_

"I'm sure you would but that's not the way we're doing things."

"_You don't have a lot to bargain with this time. LAPD are keeping the traffic back."_ The other agent pointed out. Now that the pursuit had moved up onto the open freeway with fewer options to change direction the police had finally been able to effectively block the road behind the hijacked SUV. Travelling slower than the other traffic already on the freeway they'd opened up a clear space around them. The bomber only had one life to play with, a fact he quickly brought to David's attention.

"Still got Eppes and I don't think either you, or his boss, want me to kill him."

"_Maybe, maybe not. Depends on what you're planning on doing next_." David replied honestly. Don's life would be forfeit if necessary, something the senior agent already understood and was prepared for. It didn't hurt that Mason also knew that. _"You didn't care that the LAPD were following you before. Why now?"_

"They're blocking the news trucks."

"_And you want them through."_ David finished for him.

"Finally. A fed that can figure things out for himself."

"_I let them through, what then?"_

"They film, we get this show on TV and then we move on." Mason answered, surprisingly forthcoming with information. One of the most direct answers he'd given so far.

David seized on the most important piece of information._ "Move on to what?"_

"To finishing this. You want this over, you let those trucks through."

A solid demand but not the one they wanted to hear. This was just a short term goal. Mason clearly had more in mind but after giving them all a brief moment where it seemed possible he might reveal some of his plans he clammed up again, refusing to elaborate.

Don could almost hear David trying to decide what to do as he sounded slightly distracted when he asked his next question.

"_Same deal as before, they have safe passage?"_

"Absolutely. I need them, but," Mason's voice sharpened, cutting David off as the agent started to speak. "I'm not opening this up to discussion. Let them through, or not. Up to you. You know the consequences."

At the cutting motion Don ended the call. Once again they were left with a difficult choice, give the bomber what he wanted for basically nothing in return or hold out and see just how far Mason was prepared to go. Even before the trailing black & whites merged into the single lane behind them, along with the SWAT SUVs, Don was sure which way David would go. While the negotiator handbook may have said not to give in to a demand without getting something back in return, it also said to take things slowly, extending the game where possible to give everyone the opportunity to find alternatives. If that meant giving Mason another shot at fifteen minutes of fame then that was what they had to do.

The Kal-News van was the first to close up with them, once again on the left. This time Don wasn't ordered to speak to the reporter who was all bar banging on his window as their van paced them, dangerously close. He was almost tempted to feint towards them to force them away but as the other news vans and trucks started to close up he didn't dare due to the risk of causing a collision. A television news van with the familiar _abc7_ logo painted on the side moved up to pace them on the right. This was more to Mason's liking as he wound his window down to stare at the reporter. He even held up his hand with the dead-man's switch, allowing time for the cameraman to zoom in before lowering it again. The van moved a little closer and the reporter shouted out but even at their reduced speed the rough concrete road surface made it almost impossible to hear the man. The man yelled something else as Mason leant out the window. Abruptly Mason nodded and pulled himself back in.

"Give me that pre-paid phone." Mason waved at the cell Don had tossed on his dash when this had all started.

Taking the cheap phone Mason again leant out the window and Don thought for a moment he was going to hand the cell over to the reporter. Instead he heard some shouted numbers, the bomber was calling out the cell number so the reporter could call him. After the number was repeated back Mason resumed his seat and wound the window up. A few seconds later the phone rang and Mason switched it to speaker.

"Is this going out live?" Mason demanded before the reporter got a word in.

"_Yes it is. Sean Spence, reporting live for Abc7 Eyewitness News." _The reporter introduced himself. _"Can you tell me who you are?"_

"You know who I am."

"_How do we know you are who you claim to be?"_ The reporter demanded.

"That doesn't give you a clue?" Mason indicated the trail of law enforcement vehicles behind them.

"_Pursuits like this happen every day in LA."_ The journalist responded, clearly not prepared to just take Mason's word, unlike the tabloid radio station.

"They would have told you who I am. Isn't that enough?" The journalist would know exactly which 'they' Mason was referring to.

"_They haven't told us anything beyond the standard lines that they _'are attending a developing incident and cannot comment on an ongoing investigation'_."_

Don recognised a standard quote from a media section, whether the LAPD's or FBI's hardly mattered, it would have been the same from either.

Mason was frustrated. "What about the agent I've got here? Is his word good enough for you?"

"_He's allegedly under duress. Besides, we've only got your word for it he's even an agent."_

Mason turned to his driver and reached out his hand. "Give me your ID."

Reaching into his pocket Don pulled out his ID and handed it over. He glanced across to see Mason open the wallet and put it flush against the window so their camera man could focus on it. The reporter ducked back into his van, presumably to look at the image on a monitor. He came back a few seconds later.

"_Agent Eppes? You are really an FBI agent?"_

"Answer the man." Mason ordered, holding out the phone.

"Yes. I am."

"And the rest." The bomber prompted.

"And I am under duress." Don continued. "Because I believe he is the man responsible for the bombings."

"That, and the bomb under his seat that he recognised as my work." Mason added smugly. "Right, Agent?"

"Yes. The bomb he planted in this vehicle matches the devices that have been reconstructed during this investigation." Don added stiffly.

"There. You believe me now?"

"_So, you are claiming that you are the bomber that has been terrorising Los Angeles this past week?"_

"I'm not 'claiming' anything." Mason answered.

"_Can you tell us why you are doing this?"_ Whether he was certain he was talking to the bomber or not Sean Spence could be certain at least that he was talking to a man holding a federal agent against his will. The question worked either way.

"Agent Eppes seems to think I'm a terrorist."

"_Are you?"_

"No." Once again Mason sounded affronted. "I'm doing this for me."

"_What do you want?"_

"From you? What you're giving me right now."

It was not the first time that the reporter would have heard such a line. There was a faint undertone as he spoke that suggested he didn't much like being used for such a purpose. _"You want to get your message out. What is your message?"_

"Message? There is no message."

That seemed to set Spence back a bit as it took a second or so for him to ask his next question. _"Then why this? You must have a reason. Six people have died today, two yesterday, one the day before and many others seriously injured and maimed for life. What do you say to the victims and their families?"_

"Nothing." Mason answered, sounding almost surprised at the question. "I don't know any of them."

"_You don't regret that your actions have hurt so many?"_

"Regret? Hardly. It's got me exactly what I want."

Don couldn't help the slight shiver of disgust that ran through him as he heard the cold, callous words. Given the time he'd spent with the man and the lack of any concern shown for anyone else it still came as a shock to hear it spelt out.

"_You keep saying you have what you want."_ Spence fired back before going on the attack. _"What exactly is that? A hostage? A pursuit? Media attention? Is this some sort of power trip?"_

"I have a reason."

"_Then explain it to us."_

Unlike when Don had asked the selfsame question Mason didn't react angrily. "Explaining it to you is not going to get me anything."

"_There have been various descriptions made of you, especially since today's atrocity and your subsequent actions, the most popular being Mad Bomber."_ Spence led into his question, the capitals audible in his voice. _"What do you say to that?"_

Mason's initial response was a slight tilt of his head and a shrug, but once again Don felt that the man was pleased with the description.

"That's as good as anything, I guess."

"_Do you suffer from a mental illness?"_

"Of course not."

Don wasn't so sure he could believe that. It was not unheard of for a person to commit serious offences, even serial murder for no apparent reason only to be later diagnosed with a mental illness. With the quick temper, seeming lack of agenda and lack of remorse Don was prepared to think that Mason could well suffer from something, possibly undiagnosed but existing all the same.

Spence pushed. _"No voices telling you to do this, to blow people up?"_

"No voices." Mason responded calmly, seeming far less perturbed by the reporter's line of questioning than his driver's demands for information. "This is how I'm going to get what I want. Simple as that."

"_You keep repeating that but are refusing to state what it is that you claim to want. How can we know that you're not doing this out of some sort of twisted sense of amusement?"_

Mason turned to the agent. "Are you amused, Agent?"

"No, are you?" Don fired back. He'd seen flashes of it.

The bomber ignored him, turning to look across at the news van. "What about you, Sean Spence from abc7 Eyewitness News, are you amused?"

"_Are you saying that this is a game?"_

"No. I'm asking if you are enjoying this production."

"_People have died. You've killed those people. Lives are at risk as we speak."_

Mason glanced back at the agent as his face broke into a wide smile. "Yes, yes they are."

"_Seems to me the description 'Mad Bomber' would seem to fit."_ The reporter summed up.

"Thank-you." The bomber killed the connection and waved his hand in a sarcastic farewell at the news van before tossing the pre-paid phone back onto the dash. It rang, but he let it.

"You got what you wanted?" Don demanded.

"I think so."

"What now? We done?" The agent kept his voice neutral, being done could lead to several outcomes, some not so good for him.

"Now we move on. Speed up." Mason looked around, taking better note of their surroundings, of the road signs they were approaching indicating the end of the 10. "Perfect. Keep going."

"Where?" They were approaching several exits.

"Straight on. The 101."

Racking his brain for what might be of interest ahead of them he came up with only one thing, it was the name of the road a short way ahead of them after all. "Hollywood?"

"That's it. Figured out why yet?"

"How am I supposed to figure out anything when you refuse to make sense?"

Mason shook his head. "Boy, they sure have got that wrong."

"Who has got what wrong?"

"Normally by now the FBI would be on the same page. I'm not sure you're even reading from the same script."

Again the movie references that firmed Don's thoughts that Hollywood had something to do with this. "Then point me to the right page."

Mason stabbed his finger at a billboard they were quickly approaching now that they were back up to the speed limit. "That is the right page."

Don glanced up at the billboard as they passed with its advertisement for all things Hollywood and found it less than enlightening.

_._


	5. Chapter 5

**Numb3rs: Pressure**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

_

* * *

_

**CHAPTER FIVE**

The media vehicles had dropped back now that they were on a narrower road and it was obvious that no more interviews were being given. David had checked in again but the conversation was short and handled exclusively by Mason leaving Don with the impression that he now possessed a small tid-bit of information, their destination vague as it was, that Mason didn't want going any further at this point. Without that knowledge it was impossible for David to organise a roadblock to be set to prevent the bomber reaching his target with no idea where or what it was, or even if a hard target existed. There really wasn't much to suggest that they weren't just going to drive around until his fuel was exhausted or Mason's thumb tired and he released his switch. Already he was swapping the device from hand to hand more frequently as time went on, flexing his fingers each time.

Mason noted his gaze after hanging up on David. "Worried I'll drop it?"

"Wouldn't be good for either of us."

"No. That it wouldn't."

There was no point in asking if the remote could be saftied in some way. Doing so would remove the whole point of the device, the potential threat it posed due to its design would be nullified. Instead Don asked something else. "Do you plan on surviving this?"

"Not much point getting what I want if I don't." Mason clearly expected a second question but when it didn't come, "You're not going to ask it?"

The agent knew exactly what Mason meant, was he going to survive. "No point. You won't tell me."

"I meant what I said earlier. Do what I tell you and you get to go home."

Wishing he could believe that Don concentrated on his driving. They were fast approaching a point where he may not be able to do as he was told, where he may even find himself having to push Mason into detonating if it were to the greater good. A device with as much explosive power as the one he was sitting on was not designed to simply keep one man under control. From his perspective there had to be another purpose for it to be the size it was and that was what concerned Don the most at this point, for all the good it did him. The bomber's lack of informative answers was again working for the man. Despite his opinion on the matter the bomb may well simply be overkill and Mason actually had no intention of harming others if he was successful in his goal. There was no substantive reason at the moment, with it being pretty much just his life on the line, to resist. He certainly didn't want to die which gave Mason power over him. No, he had to wait. At some point it would have to become clear as Mason had to make his demand to someone eventually. Don could make his decision then.

"Here, exit here."

The order from Mason interrupted his thoughts and Don had to cut across a lane to make for the exit. He glanced up at the sign as they passed it by, _Universal Studios_. "The studio?"

"It's just an exit." Mason denied.

There was a slight tenseness now about the bomber that Don could see. Whilst this may just be an exit leading down to Buddy Holly Drive, he was sure it was more. With all the movie references in Mason's words today, some he was only now recognising as such, the studio seemed to be a likely target. Two more turns later and it was even firmer, all the signs they were passing were pointing to the studio, each more specific than the last as the road split and led off to different areas. He eased off the accelerator and slowed, wondering if now he had enough information to stop and refuse to go further.

Mason noticed the change and leant over, lifting the remote so that it was in Don's sight, adding emphasis to his words. "That blast radius I mentioned earlier?"

"Fifty yards." Don supplied, feeling a sudden dread at where the other might be leading.

"That was an underestimation." He saw his driver glance around at the traffic surrounding them. "That's right, Agent. You could be responsible for a lot of unnecessary deaths. Take this lane."

Jaw muscles jumping as he ground his teeth together Don looked over at the bomber. As Mason stared challengingly back Don saw nothing to suggest that the man was bluffing, his actions this past week proving he was more than capable of what he was suggesting. Seeing little option Don flicked on his indicator and all but bulldozed his way across, the traffic thickening and becoming confused due to the sirens and marked LAPD cars converging behind them. They were moving slowly now and Don regretted not taking the chance back out on the highway and halting things there.

"Lock the doors."

"Huh?" The order wasn't one he'd been expecting.

"Central locking. Now."

Don pressed the button in the panel and heard the locks activate. It made sense now, travelling slowly they were at greater risk of someone trying to take the SUV by force.

The cell phone in the holder rang, the display this time showing David's name, not 'restricted'. It meant David was on the move, calling in from his own cell. The trailing agents would have reported on their now apparent destination and the other agent was on his way out to continue the negotiation on the scene. Negotiation by phone was always difficult, the control in the hands of the hostage taker, able to refuse to answer a call or terminate one. From the scene David had more control.

Mason reached across and answered the call. He was straight to the point. "Do not interfere, FBI."

"_Where are you going, Mason?"_

"You know where I'm going. This is almost over."

"_What do you want?"_ From the tone in his voice it was clear that David expected an answer this time.

"Nothing you can give me."

There was a pause before David spoke again. _"Then you leave me with no choice but to have you stopped."_

"Do that and everyone dies." Mason snapped. He let the silence lengthen for a moment as he stared across at Don. "Here, and downtown."

"What?" Both Don and David demanded simultaneously.

"_You have another device set?"_ David continued. This was the first time there'd been any indication of such, until now only Don and everything around his hijacked SUV had been at risk.

"You think I didn't plan for this? I figured when it came down to it you'd be willing to write-off this agent and maybe a few others if you couldn't get them out of the way in time." Mason explained coldly.

"_Where is it?"_

"Not telling. Just know that it is somewhere very busy." Mason said. "How many have I killed today? Six? Not a patch on what will happen if I detonate that one. Your choice. No-one else has to die today."

Don was forced to pull to a stop as the road ahead of him came to an end at a cul-de-sac under a sign to City Walk. Traffic around them was now blocked from returning back down the road by the congregation of emergency vehicles. Mason's insistence that they keep moving seemed to be rather redundant now.

"_Seems you have stopped."_ David was pointing out.

"Not yet. Keep your people back. I'm nearly done."

"_You intend to kill Agent Eppes and yourself?"_

"I said no-one else has to die today, that includes this agent."

"_You intend to kill yourself?"_ David amended.

"Hardly. Listen up, Agent Sinclair wasn't it?" Getting a positive response Mason continued. "Listen up. You let me do what I need to and everyone lives. Simple as that. A lot of lives are in your hands, Agent Sinclair."

Mason ended the call and pulled the phone from the holder, shutting down the Bluetooth again before dropping the phone into a pocket. He looked over at his waiting hostage. "You trust him?"

"With my life." Don told him.

"You are. Now, keep going."

Looking around them again he didn't see how he could do that. During the apparent pause in proceedings officers had left their black & whites and were attempting to clear people out of the cars around them. The abandoned vehicles now formed an even more effective roadblock. "Where?"

A hand pointed at the 'no standing' sign just off to their left. The sign was mounted on a standard three inch diameter metal pole standing between two sets of anti-vehicle bollards. "Through there."

"There's no way through." Don tried arguing. He could see it was a weak point, the metal pole unlikely to be any real match for his SUV if he hit it with enough speed. Beyond it was the pedestrian areas of the City Walk, disappearing off to the left and right. He could see shops in both directions but had no idea what lay beyond never having felt the urge, or had any operational need, to visit the tourist oriented area of the studio.

"Don't try me, Agent. Knock it down."

Another glance around showed far too many people in danger. With no choice he backed up as best he could, bumping over the edge of a small traffic island behind him. Adjusting his path he pointed the nose of the SUV towards the sign as he changed back into drive. In an effort to provide as much warning of his intentions as he could he gunned his engine a couple of times as he rode the brake, allowing the vehicle to move forward just a couple of inches. He saw some of the officers stare at them before moving with more urgency now to clear people away from the pedestrian area near the arch.

"Agent." Mason's tone held all the warning needed, showing his displeasure at the delay.

Gunning his engine one last time he released the brake and pushed his foot flat to the floor, he needed as much momentum as possible in the short distance if he were to avoid becoming hung up on the pole. They hit it with a loud bang and he saw it snap away and disappear as they continued forward. The SUV briefly rose up on two wheels, tilting as the bent pole slid underneath one side of the heavy vehicle. It took every ounce of his concentration to maintain control once all four wheels were back on the ground and take the quick turn necessary to prevent them colliding with one of the concrete support pillars for the arch. The passenger side mirror snapped back against the body as it clipped the other pillar causing Mason to flinch away but they were through and he was hard on the brakes before they could plough into a shopfront. Pedestrians that had been milling in confusion at all the noise and the officers' shouts had scattered and he was thankful that no-one had been injured.

"Don't stop. Left, go left." Mason ordered sharply.

It was tight but Don managed the turn without having to back up. Seeing that people only a short distance away seemed to be oblivious to the approaching danger Don reached out and hit the switches for his lights and siren. The noise reverberated off the shops, echoed and magnified. There was no way he wouldn't be heard, no matter what volume their iPods may be set at. Heads turned and people started to scramble out of the way to the sides of the pedestrian thoroughfare. There was less fear in their expressions than he expected as he made his way past them, more surprise and interest.

"Even better." Mason commented as the siren started. "Didn't think of that. Wasn't in the script either."

Concentrating on what he was doing it took a moment for the words to penetrate. "Script? What script?"

Mason ignored the question, instead pointing up ahead of them. "There. Stop there."

They'd reached the end of the thoroughfare and were now in a large open area. Up ahead was a set of buildings and a large sign that identified them as cinemas. A crowd of people were queuing for the afternoon run of movies. Between them a bright red car was parked behind some barricade ropes with a security guard standing nearby. Don recognised the car as they rolled closer as the rather specialised vehicle driven by the lead actor in a recently released movie. The guard stepped towards them but then stopped, staring at the approaching SUV as he was clearly unsure what was going on. As Don killed his siren and pulled to a stop the guard appeared to make a decision and started towards them. He waved the man back. Confused the guard stopped and instead reached for his radio as he peered around the SUV at the commotion behind it.

More concerned with what was happening inside his vehicle Don didn't note that. "Now what?"

"Now we wait a bit. Shut it down."

Turning off the engine and putting the SUV into park Don had time now to spare to look around them. Given that it was a Saturday afternoon the place was fairly crowded, the pedestrians that had scattered with the unexpected arrival of a vehicle in their midst were now starting to move back in. Some were even raising cameras and started snapping photos of the scene developing in front of them. Most of their faces wore the same expression of surprise and interest he'd seen before now that the initial fear had worn off. They had plenty to be afraid of, they just didn't know it. Finally he realised why they were reacting the way they were as more and more of the crowd started filming and taking shots. This was a movie studio lot, it wasn't beyond the realms of possibility that what there were witnessing was some sort of promotional stunt show for a movie.

Heads started to turn and Don looked back to see LAPD officers reach the edge of the crowd. Behind them he could see the SWAT team running up, now having to lug all their gear on foot. Concentrating on them for the moment he saw them split up, one agent waving his arms clearly giving orders for some of the agents to seek vantage points now that the rolling hostage drama had developed into a static siege. It was turning into precisely the type of situation that Mason had claimed earlier not to want.

Behind the agents he could see the media pack arriving, cameras mounted on shoulders. Not interested in them he changed his focus to see the LAPD officers attempt to push the crowd back but they were spread far too thinly to do much good. Finally a couple of golf buggies pulled up bearing more studio security guards. Don could hear shouts as questions were asked and orders given but couldn't hear the actual words with his windows closed and the increasing buzzing from the crowd. The crowd was slowly pushed back but it wasn't far enough or fast enough for his liking. He clearly understood why that was the case, even with the security guards the officers were greatly outnumbered, their efforts further hampered by the crowds' general curiosity towards what was happening making them reluctant to leave. The size of the crowd also meant that the LAPD could hardly announce that there was a bomb without causing unnecessary panic. Reinforcements were desperately needed, sheer manpower would be able to get the crowd moving.

"Give me my cell." Don demanded.

"Why?"

Don turned on the man. "Damnit, Mason! There are kids out there. We need to get the area cleared."

"Not much point putting on a show without an audience."

"I think there's been enough of a show for one day. It's time to end this. Let them go."

Mason looked critically at the crowd around them and the efforts being made to move them back. He shifted in his seat and checked his watch. "I think you may be right. Give me the keys."

Reaching out to the ignition he yanked them out and handed them over. The SUV was now effectively disabled and not going anywhere which was just fine by him.

"Hands on top of the steering wheel."

Frowning at the latest unexpected order he gripped the wheel, wondering what Mason was intending to do next. He watched as the man reached into a pocket and pulled out a cell phone Don hadn't seen before.

"Stay very still, Agent. I don't want to have to interrupt this call." The bomber instructed. "Try anything and I might drop this."

He rested his right hand, currently holding the remote on the window sill, the hand slightly raised. Don understood what he was doing after a few seconds thought, the move made the remote visible to any snipers setting their shots. Mason still held all the cards and wasn't above making it obvious. Taking the agent's silence and stillness as compliance he pressed a speed dial and lifted his cell to his ear.

"Brock Management?" Mason queried when the call went through. "Put me through to Brock. … Tell him it's urgent. … Pete Mason."

Now Don had a name, a full name. He could do nothing with it but there was something in knowing the man's full name.

"Brock? You watching TV? … That's the one. What do you think?" Mason listened for a while. "That's what I was aiming for. There are a few things I think they need to add to the script but you'll have to agree now that I'm right for the part."

"What the hell?" Don couldn't help demanding out loud, interrupting Mason's call against the man's clear order. Everything suddenly clicked into place, the constant movie references, mentions of scripts and the desire to be labelled by the media as a mad bomber. Now the call to a talent management agency, one he'd never heard of but it seemed obvious enough what they were. Mason was a wannabe actor. "This is for a movie? You want a part in a damned movie?"

"Hang on Brock." Mason lowered the phone and cast an angry glare at the fuming agent. "I told you not to interrupt."

"Yeah? What are you going to do about it, blow us up?" Don challenged, his temper going way beyond boiling point. "Won't be in any movies if you do that."

"Right." Mason snapped crossly, sounding very much like a parent that had just had enough of a child's tantrum. He slapped the cell phone down on the dash and swapped hands with the remote. Before Don could wonder what he was doing he dug under his right leg and came up with the gun he'd taken from the agent earlier.

To his instant chagrin Don realised he'd completely forgotten about the Glock. As the weapon came up he saw the intent on Mason's face and realised he was in desperate danger. He raised his hands, backing away as best he could in the car. "No, wait-"

It was too late, in the same movement Mason had twisted and leant forwards, adjusting his aim in the last instant until the muzzle almost touched his target. Ignoring the agent's plea and showing absolutely no hesitation he pulled the trigger.

.


	6. Chapter 6

**Numb3rs: Pressure**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

_

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_

**CHAPTER SIX**

Don clapped his hands over the wounds in his thigh as the sound of the shot died away, applying pressure and hissing though his teeth at the intense pain. His gaze locked on Mason as the man sat back but even though the gun was now aimed at his chest the wild look was gone from the bomber's eyes. Sparing the time Don quickly glanced down to see blood welling up from beneath his fingers to coat his hands. There was some relief, it didn't appear as if the artery had been hit, he'd seen that sort of bleed and this wasn't it. The bullet wound still hurt like hell though and he knew the damage was serious. Adjusting his grip slightly he couldn't help but catch his gaze on the muzzle of his gun seeing the last curl of smoke leave the barrel. Tearing his eyes away he met Mason's once again.

"I don't need you to drive for me any more." Mason told him almost calmly, his anger seeming to have evaporated once he'd acted on it. "Alive would be good, but I have enough other hostages if I need them."

"Won't be alive if I bleed out." Don hissed back through his teeth.

Mason barely glanced at the wound. "You're not bleeding out. At least, not for a while yet. EMT, remember?"

That was another shock, the man really was an EMT? It was hard to believe that someone trained to care for injured people at their most vulnerable moment was capable of the cold-blooded murder of random innocents.

"Just keep pressure on it." Mason added, the instruction sounding like it was given on autopilot. He then leant forwards slightly and the friendly EMT persona disappeared as the voice dropped. "Think you can be quiet now?"

Reacting to the menacing tone Don had barely nodded when a ringing cell interrupted them. Reaching awkwardly into his pocket Mason used a couple of fingers to pull out Don's phone and dropped it into his lap. Using a free finger he pressed a button to reject the call.

"You have to answer them." Don risked.

"No, I don't. They can see you're still alive and I still have the remote." Mason raised his left hand as he spoke so the spotters could be sure of that. He also raised the Glock slightly. "I'm done with this conversation, are you?"

Eyeing the gun pointed at him and hearing the complete sincerity and total lack of empathy in Mason's voice Don could do nothing but nod again. He had no doubt that the bomber would shoot him again if he felt it necessary and quite possibly not to wound next time.

The threat of the dead-man's switch was still a good one for the agents outside the vehicle even if Don now believed its deliberate use was a bluff. Mason didn't want to kill himself, he wanted his part in a movie. Those outside the SUV didn't know that but they did know that taking him out would cause the remote to be dropped, detonating the bomb here even if not the alleged device downtown, a device Don was now sure was also a bluff. Even believing there was no second bomb he was still stuck. If he were able to ignore the wound in his leg and attempt to take Mason on when he swapped the gun back for the phone the remote would quite likely be dropped in the scuffle. Everyone around them would end up dead. There wasn't anything he could do, the crowd outside was still too close.

He saw Mason's face shift to a grin as he got what he wanted. Then there was a flash of uncertainty as it seemed the man suddenly realised he had both hands occupied which would make it hard to continue his call, assuming Brock was still on the line. Don could almost see the thoughts as it seemed he'd come to the conclusion that he had somewhat shown his hand and figured the remote may no longer be as good a threat to keep the agent in line as the gun. He couldn't be sure now that his hostage would continue to do as ordered.

Mason quickly found a solution, keeping the gun aimed at the agent he reached across himself and pressed a button on the cell with his little finger. "Brock?"

"_What was that?"_ A man's puzzled voice asked from the phone's speaker.

"That was the agent interrupting us. I shot him to shut him up." Mason explained as if he were explaining that he had to turn on a light.

"_You killed him?"_

"No, he's still alive." Mason answered sounding annoyed yet again.

Don's cell started ringing again and with some more awkward fumbling with the hand holding the remote causing Don's breath to catch, Mason rejected the call.

There was a long pause before Brock started speaking, his words slow in disbelief. _"So, that really is you there in that SUV? You're the Mad Bomber and I'm watching you on live TV?"_

"That's me. I already told you that. Do you want me to wave or something? Now, when can I-"

"_You've got a federal agent hostage? You actually set those explosions?"_

"Weren't you listening? They thought I wasn't right for the part when I read for them. I had to show them."

"_You copied the movie role, the part you were reading for, for real?" _ Brock was clearly finding all this hard to believe.

"Yeah, about that," Mason started conversationally as he ignored the increasing hysteria from Brock. "There are a few things they need to change to make it better. Agent Eppes here had some great ideas."

"_You read for the part," _Brock repeated, sounding as he was in shock. _"They didn't like you."_

"They said I wasn't convincing as a mad bomber. They have to believe I can play the part now."

"_Have you totally lost it? It's just a movie, not meant to be for real!" _ Brock all but shouted back.

Mason ignored that as well as a thought occurred to him. "Actually, that's not a bad idea. When you talk to them tell them I'd like creative input as well."

"_You're nuts."_

"See? Even you think I'm good for the part. Call them back. I think I can ask for more now too, don't you? Your commission will be bigger and-"

"_No way! I'm not having any part of this." _

There was a loud bang as the phone on the other end was hung up forcefully. Mason glanced away from the agent he'd been keeping a close eye on to look at his phone in obvious surprise. "He hung up on me."

Don kept his mouth shut as Mason turned back. The man was far too volatile and he waited to see what was going to happen now. Mason had finally made his demand of someone he considered able to grant him what he wanted. Now that had fallen through he had no idea where this was going to be taken now, especially since the bomber had disabled his driver. Interrupting his thoughts his cell started ringing for the third time since he was shot. This time Mason let it ring as he continued to stare at Don. The agent got the impression Mason also didn't know what to do next.

It came to him in a flash of understanding. Mason had been playing out a part from a movie role. The planning and forethought they had attributed to the bomber actually belonged to a screenwriter. Which all meant that everything he thought he'd learnt about the man was wrong, until now he'd not seen the real Pete Mason. Now that he was off the script the man had to think for himself and somehow Don didn't think that was going to go so well. He'd carried on his conversation with Brock in the guise of the bomber but that cocky self-confidence had suddenly seemed to desert him as Brock hung up on him. That just left the wannabe actor. Pete Mason clearly had issues, flashes of which Don had seen, and now Pete Mason was the one he had to deal with.

"They will do something if you don't answer." Don finally managed as his phone started up for the fourth ring.

"This is all your fault." Pete accused.

Don's jaw dropped and it took him a moment to find voice at the unexpected statement. The anger that had just got him shot resurfaced. "My fault? How the hell is this my fault? I've done everything you've demanded."

"You argued, you fought me the whole way and now you've ruined it with Brock. He was going to get me the part until you spoiled it." Instead of the angry parent he now sounded like a petulant child.

The gun came back up and Don was sure now that the increasingly dangerous bomber was going to end it for him and there was nothing that neither he nor the agents and police outside the SUV could do to prevent it. He wasn't able to help the automatic reaction that had him pushing himself back until he was pressed against the door once again, nowhere left to go. As he adjusted his position his hands had also come off his leg, lifting as if they could prevent a bullet striking him. He saw the man's eyes note the blood and glance downwards.

"Keep pressure on it." Pete suddenly ordered, sounding once again like an EMT.

At the jerk of the gun towards his wound Don lowered his hands and resumed applying pressure. The blood flow had eased somewhat but with his movement just now it could easily increase again. It was also a sign that perhaps he wasn't going to be shot, or at least not right now. Unsure what he should say he again kept his mouth shut and waited. As time went on the man was making less sense and he remembered the question from the journalist as to his mental state. From his untrained, but experienced perspective it was obvious that the bomber was unstable, the mood swings and now persona shifts coming more abruptly. He'd been living in the fantasy world of the mad bomber role for the last week or more, now he'd been yanked out of that and was confused as to his identity. Was he Pete the EMT or Mason the Mad Bomber? His grip on reality was obviously shaky as he seemed to have believed that everything would work out in his favour with no consequences once he'd finished his method acting audition.

Abruptly the gun was lowered and pushed away under the man's right leg before he twisted and reached back between the seats. Even though he was off balance and the gun was out of play but Don still didn't move, the remote was still a danger if accidentally dislodged. The way Pete was grabbing at the bag he'd been carrying earlier with both hands made that risk all the greater. A quick glance around showed that whilst the LAPD and security had made progress moving the crowd it still wasn't enough, close but not enough. If he could string this all out a little longer, perhaps just a few minutes, then maybe he would have a chance to do something. Although what that could be he hadn't a clue.

Pete twisted back, pulling his bag with him and balanced it across the space between the front seats. Glancing up at the agent as if to reassure himself he hadn't moved the EMT zipped open the bag to reveal an extensive medical kit. Selecting some items he pushed the bag aside. With some careful juggling of the remote he pulled on some latex gloves before leaning forward.

"Let's have a look at that leg, shall we?"

Don prised his hands off his leg and found himself holding them up almost as if his gun was being pointed at him again. The shift back to friendly EMT concerned him more than the angry bomber. He just didn't know who he was dealing with anymore, making the situation all that more unpredictable.

"This might hurt a bit."

The EMT had already cut away the leg of his jeans to access the injury, now he prodded at the entry wound and then at the larger exit wound on the back of the leg. Hurt was an understatement and Don just barely caught himself from reaching out to shove the man's hands away. Instead he balled them into fists and pressed down on the seat on either side of him as a horrified thought struck him, _how close had he just come to dislodging the dead-man's switch?_ It was far from secure in Pete's grip as the man was using both hands to work at Don's leg. Panting his way through the pain he fixated on the bomber's left hand holding the remote, sure that at any moment his thumb would slip. After struggling with a bulk dressing pack the hand suddenly shoved at him.

"Hold this."

"What?" He demanded in shock as the remote was presented to him.

"I can't fix your leg and hold this at the same time."

"But," Don started before the rest of his brain caught up and told him to _shut the hell up_. It was too late and he saw the change in the man's face, the bomber was back. The man's right hand shifted on his leg and pressed against the bullet wound.

"I wouldn't get any ideas." Mason warned as he pressed harder. "Try anything and I'll make you drop it. You'll have five seconds after that to think on how you're about to die."

The grip tightened further forcing a grunt from between Don's tightly clenched teeth. Abruptly the hand lifted, the lack of pressure briefly causing even more pain before dulling only slightly. Don forced his gaze away from the threatening hand resting lightly now on his leg and looked to the other man's face, seeing the left hand jerk towards him. Staring into the bomber's eyes he slowly reached out his right hand and lightly touched the remote, still unsure what would happen. It was pressed forwards and he quickly got his thumb onto the edge of the switch just as Mason let go. Bringing his left hand up he adjusted his precarious grip until he held the remote securely. In the process he'd moved it into his left hand and he now started to shift his arm, raising it towards the window sill of the door he was still pressed against. His mind was working again and he saw a chance. If he could get it up high enough the spotters would see that he now held the device, opening up their options to deal with the bomber. He froze as fresh pain assaulted him.

"Don't."

He quickly dropped his hand to his lap. "Okay, okay." Don gasped and Mason's hand once again lifted off the wound.

The man swabbed at the fresh blood his mistreatment of the injury had caused. Opening the bulk dressing pack he'd struggled with earlier he placed the pad against the exit wound, then opening another pack placed that one over the entrance wound. Unsealing a bandage he lifted the agent's leg enough that he could reach under and started wrapping the cloth around the leg. A second bandage and he was done, wrapping two turns of tape over the top to hold everything securely.

Pete looked up as he stripped the gloves off his hands. "That should hold for now. You're going to need some surgery though, those bullets you guys carry are downright nasty."

"Uh, thanks." Don said cautiously as the EMT started collecting the wrappers from the dressings, tossing them into the back after the used swab and bloody gloves.

Then, in what seemed like an automatic move, the EMT pulled his bag back across onto the seat and sorted through its contents, reordering things now that he'd used some items. Don had seen this before at incident scenes, the paramedics ensuring they knew what supplies they had left in case they had to go again before they could restock. The bag was then closed and zipped back up. Completing his tidy up Pete then twisted and started to put the bag back into the rear of the SUV.

The central locking was off and his door was open before Don had consciously considered the move. It was his only chance, the bomber was off balance with both hands occupied and away from the gun still under his leg. With the man's next logical move being to take the dead-man's switch back this was Don's only chance. Pushing himself out he hit the ground in a graceless heap but he was out of the SUV. There was a shout from the crowd that were now only just back far enough but he barely heard them. The shout from inside the SUV was louder and far more concerning.

"No!"

Shoving himself up Don made it to his feet, his right leg emphatically telling him it didn't want to support his weight but it held. The urgency of what he had to do meant that he couldn't celebrate that small victory having expected the leg to fail him and finish his escape before he'd started it. At his very next step though his knee buckled and he almost face-planted the pavers but he refused to go down, pushing on as Mason again shouted behind him.

"Get back here!"

Getting his legs moving he lurched away from the SUV, trying to angle around behind it to reduce Mason's potential line of fire. Remembering something else he shoved his left hand into the air in the hope that the spotters would see what he held. There was a loud bang and he flinched, almost going down again but he managed to keep his footing. Another bang, then a third and he felt fresh pain, a sharp burning sensation in his left shoulder and his arm dropped. The gunshots continued rapid fire and he felt another hit on his lower arm, his automatic glance showing a deep furrow across his forearm. Mason was shooting at the arm holding the remote and seemed to be a damned good shot given his success so far. He felt his hand grow slippery with fresh blood and he worked to tighten his grip. Frantically he tried to dodge right as the shots continued. His leg gave way and this time he couldn't compensate for it, falling hard.

There was another shot but this one sounded different, it was the harder, flatter crack of a rifle. Don rolled and looked back to see Mason drop, but before the man hit the ground he heard something else, a light plastic clatter. His heart almost stopped at what that could mean just as he realised he couldn't feel his left hand any more. In panic he looked down and his eyes lit upon the blood covered dead-man's switch lying a short distance from his fingers, button now standing proud from the face. Mason's voice replayed in his head as he looked back to his SUV that was still all too close. _Five seconds_. He had five seconds.

Don forced himself back up and broke into an ungainly sprint, the urgent need to get away overriding everything else, the pain in his leg and arm forgotten. He shouted as he ran, "Fire in the hole! It's a bomb! Everybody down!"

The screams of panic that had started with the shots intensified and he saw a ripple of movement go through the people being held back by the police and security. He'd long since figured that they'd have to know by now this was not a promotional stunt for a new movie but a real life drama happening right in front of them. Unfortunately that hadn't really made the LAPD's job any easier and whilst the crowd had moved back to what was probably a safe distance they'd been impossible to clear in the short time since this had all started. There were more yells now as the officers added their own shouted instructions, trying to pass on his desperate warning.

The concrete pillar he was aiming for was tantalisingly close when his mental timer hit zero and a wave of heat and pressure reached him.

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	7. Chapter 7

**Numb3rs: Pressure**

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however._

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**CHAPTER SEVEN**

He'd been close to explosions before but nothing like this one. He was taken off his feet and flung forwards by the pressure wave. The pillar he'd been running towards intending to use as a shelter was now a solid object about to bring his flight to a sudden halt. By some miracle he landed on the ground first, rolling once before he hit the vertical obstruction.

The first person he saw when he regained consciousness was a male EMT looming over him, the man's face a blur as his eyes worked to focus. Confused at how Mason came to be above him Don tried to strike out before a little more of his memory returned and he pulled his right arm back, palm up in surrender. He may not want to detonate his bomb but Mason still had a gun.

"Easy, now. Easy." The man soothed in an unfamiliar voice. "You're safe."

Blinking Don managed to clear his eyes and everything came back. It couldn't be Mason, he was dead, sniper shot a few seconds before the bomb had gone off.

"That's it. Just relax for me." The young EMT continued in a calming voice. "You're going to be fine."

"Bad?" He managed, his voice rough. He started to cough and instantly realised that was not a good idea as his chest caught fire. A hand pressed against his right side and the pain lessened. Finally the urge to cough vanished and the man removed his supporting hand.

"Some broken ribs for starters. Nothing much I can do about those here." The man moved back to where he'd been working when Don woke up, his shoulder. He continued his diagnosis, the tone behind his words reassuring even as he listed the injuries. "The bullet wounds are messy but I'll get them patched up and you'll be medivaced out when the chopper gets here. Someone's already done a reasonable job on your leg."

"No." Don said in frustration, that wasn't what he meant. "How bad-?" Talking was not good either he suddenly realised as the urge to cough struck him again. After a painful spasm he managed to stop it from developing into another coughing fit.

"He meant everyone else." A familiar voice interrupted.

Don got his eyes open again as a shadow crossed him. Remembering that he shouldn't speak he mouthed David's name.

"We got everyone back far enough. The blast radius wasn't quite as bad as he said." David explained, giving his boss what he needed. "A few injured, shrapnel mostly and a couple of broken bones. You're the worst. Aside from Mason, he's dead."

He managed a nod, he remembered the way the man had fallen and was sure of that. The man's death hadn't worried him as much as his concern for others that may be been caught in the blast.

"Rest Don. Let the EMTs work." David's head lifted as he appeared to listen a moment over the constant sound of sirens in the air. "I think your ride's here."

Now he could hear it too, a helicopter rapidly approaching.

"Alright, Agent. We're going to get you onto a stretcher now, okay? Just let us do all the work."

Considering the pain that was starting to come at him from all over his body Don decided that he could manage that. Several more people suddenly pitched in along with David as he was lifted gently and the stretcher slid into place beneath him. They were careful but it still hurt and he couldn't help the gasp of pain. Everything got a little fuzzy after that, but he remembered parts of a golf buggy ride, the buildings moving past him making him feel a touch dizzy with the unusual angle. Then he was loaded into the helicopter and he felt them lift. The next he remembered was seeing the light fixtures in the ceiling as he was being wheeled down a hallway and into the ER. Prepping for surgery was quick and then finally the pain eased as they put him under.

...

Two days later the doctor relented and let David see him for more than a two minute window. Until then, much as he'd hated to admit it to himself he was in no condition for visitors. The concussive force of the explosion had left his body feeling like one giant bruise. Breathing hurt due to his ribs, even if they were just cracked, not actually broken. The bullet wounds had resulted in surgery on his leg, shoulder and arm which all added to his general discomfort. The doctor's report had been a surprise on that when she'd explained that he'd actually been shot four times. Sleep was a wonderful escape and the two days had passed in a sleepy haze. His father and brother had visited and stayed with him and he'd appreciated the company, taking most of the time he was awake yesterday to tell them what had happened. Having a fair chunk of the drama broadcast on television had made some of that easier.

He's woken this morning feeling far more alert and ready to get back to work, even if it was just going to be giving his statement or at least a version of events he could formalise later. That led to a round of arguing with the doctor which ended up convincing her he was up to visitors other than family. He still hurt, especially if he moved without thinking but he needed to be doing something. David arrived midmorning, lugging a laptop, ready to take notes. Alan had excused himself, setting down the book he'd been reading to head out for morning tea. Experience had taught him that Don wouldn't be as open as he needed to be if he were there to hear all the minute details.

"Hey, Don. How're you feeling?" David said once Alan had closed the door behind him.

"Like I nearly got blown up."

David grinned. "Can't imagine why."

"You know, I saw that pillar coming right at me and I was sure I was going to hit it." When he closed his eyes he could see the brightly coloured and hard, very hard, surface waiting for him. He knew if he'd hit that before hitting the ground things may well have worked out a whole lot differently.

David shifted a little uncomfortably and changed the subject slightly. "How about we rewind that and start at the beginning?"

The beginning was walking back to his SUV after assessing the latest crime scene so Don started there trying to fill in as much detail as he could as he went along. David would stop him and get him to clarify certain points or slow him down if he was getting ahead of himself. Parts of it seemed to take as long to tell as to happen. They stopped briefly for a drink and for David to stretch his overworked fingers but other than that the other agent didn't ask questions, concentrating on getting everything down. Until Don reached a certain point, that was.

"He did what?"

"I know." Don ran his right hand through his hair as he saw David's disbelieving expression. He repeated himself. "He handed me the dead-man's switch."

"But, that's," The other agent was incredulous as he searched for words. "That's like giving the hostage the gun and telling them to hold it on themselves."

"Almost." Don described Mason's hand on his leg, the warning and promise to make him drop the remote if he tried anything, a promise that Mason had been able to carry out in the end.

"I guess. But, still."

"He wasn't exactly in his right mind." Given that it had led to the surprise move Don was actually a little thankful that Mason was unstable. If the man had been sane, handing over the remote would have been the very last thing he would have done. Both of them would have been dead by now in that case.

"I'm getting that." David agreed. He had to move on, the tale was not yet finished. "What happened after that?"

Don continued with the rest, up to the moment of the explosion.

David explained it from his perspective. "It was big but not quite up to the size Mason indicated. We'd finally got the crowd pushed back and they pretty much escaped the worst of the actual blast but the debris from your SUV and broken windows from the buildings caused a few injuries. I'm amazed no one else got hit given the way he was shooting at you."

"Maybe next time they'll listen when they're told to back up." The crowd, in a way, had almost gotten him killed.

"I doubt it. A lot of them still actually thought this was some sort of movie stunt, at least up until the explosion." The other agent commented. "On the up side, that meant we've got footage from about a hundred different camera angles of the explosion to work through. That includes your Superman impression."

Don couldn't help the quirk of his lips at David's attempt to lighten the mood a bit. That was a much better way of thinking of it, at least Superman wouldn't have been hurt hitting the pillar.

He quickly sobered. Knowing there was so much footage the investigators had to go through, analysing the explosion from every angle, reminded him that the investigation was far from over. There was a lot of work yet to be done and he'd be out of most of it for a while but the thought reminded him of something he wanted to know now. "What about Mason? Got anything on him?"

David saved the file and closed the laptop. "His full name was Peter John Mason, born 1975 in San Francisco, living and working in LA for the last nine years as a fully qualified advanced care EMT. He had actually been treating the people his bombs had injured."

Don saw David shaking his head at that. He'd found it hard to believe himself but then he knew of cases where doctors had deliberately harmed or even killed patients for their own designs so it really wasn't so out there.

"He'd been trying to get his big break as an actor for a few years now, getting some small roles in commercials and made-for-TV productions." David continued. "Then about four weeks ago he tried out for a part in a movie as the lead, a mad bomber terrorising a city. According to his manager the casting agency didn't think Mason had what they needed and told him not to expect a call-back."

"You spoke to Brock Management?"

"Yeah. He called us not long after he spoke to Mason, desperate to convince us he had nothing to do with the whole thing. Even drove straight down to the office and gave us everything he had on him."

"A script?"

"No, we found that at Mason's apartment. Well, not quite a script, more a very detailed outline of the plot along with the lead character's actions and motivations as background for when he went for the part."

"It was a blueprint."

"Exactly. Right down to the escalating explosions and the bomber's refusal to make any contact with the authorities. Even taking an agent hostage with a bomb in his car was in there, he just tried to change the ending but didn't quite manage it."

"The movie bomber gets taken out by the FBI?" Don surmised based on Mason's initial desire to avoid a static siege situation and the sharp-shooter targeting his head.

"No, his own bomb as the agent miraculously escapes."

Don blinked. It was close to what actually happened and whilst he'd been sure Mason was dead when he got hit by the sniper it didn't really make much difference if he wasn't, he'd been right near the back of the SUV when it went up. Either way, Don knew the forensics people would have been picking up pieces of the man. It was ironic, Mason had copied the movie to show he was the right man for the role and it had ended up killing him in the same way as the character he desperately wanted to play.

"We also found DVD copies of just about every recent bomber type movie that's been released since _Speed_. He was researching the whole genre."

Don could understand what had happened there, Mason had totally immersed himself in the role causing him to lose touch with reality. "What about the bombs? He was an EMT, where'd he get the bombs from?"

"He was also a computer geek and had just about every electronics hobby known to man. We're still trying to track where he got the actual explosives from, but the rest he built himself. From his notes and bomb making plans we were also able to determine that there was no other device downtown."

Don nodded at the confirmation; he'd decided the alleged extra bomb was a bluff before making his break. "What about his doctor?"

"Didn't have one." David answered, knowing Don wasn't asking about a run-of-the-mill MD. "It seems he just snapped when he was rejected."

"There had to have been something." Don protested. He'd got the feeling early on that something wasn't quite right before Mason's reaction to the final rejection left him in no doubt. Surely those that knew Peter Mason would have seen signs long before the man had gone off the rails.

David shrugged. "He was obsessed with acting, with getting his big break but that describes about half the people in LA. Other than that we're getting the usual 'quiet, kept to himself' type descriptions."

That was a worrying thought, _how many other potential bombers were out there, undiagnosed in the community?_ He knew the answer to that himself, _too many_. It seemed nearly every week someone, somewhere went postal, Mason just another in a long list. There would be more after him.

He just hoped he wouldn't be caught up in the action quite so closely again.

END

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End file.
